


Sharing and Caring

by maxolotl67



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 16:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21039368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxolotl67/pseuds/maxolotl67
Summary: Roman/reader (gender-nonspecific)Three times you slept with Roman, and one time it was the dirty kind.





	Sharing and Caring

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know what this is, but I needed it out of my head. Self-inserts have kind of been my jam lately.
> 
> No strict content warnings on this one, although there is a brief description of a car accident, so if that bothers you, you can skip out, and I promise I won't be offended.
> 
> Still here? Enjoy!

It started as an accident. Well, not so much an accident as it was a clerical error. Nobody’s fault, just an unfortunate end to a draining day.

The road crew, as they usually were, was the last to get to the hotel. You were already exhausted and on edge from the long drive, and having one of the other crew come out and tell you that they were one bed short for the night just seemed to make you even more tired. They did try to console you, say that this happened from time to time and it was just part of life on the road. Being the greenest member of the crew, you agreed to take the couch in their room, knowing full well it would mean working all day tomorrow with a stiff back and a headache. Not good for hauling heavy equipment.

“I’ve got a king in my room. You could share with me.” A familiar voice, one that curled in your belly like a warm meal or a lover’s embrace.

You turned around, ready to insist that you would be fine, that it wasn’t a big deal. But it was hard to deny Roman Reigns anything when he smiled at you like that. The number of times you’d spoken to each other since you joined the company could be counted on one hand, but somehow that didn’t matter to him right now. You sighed and agreed, praying that the whole thing would be over and done by morning, and with as little awkwardness as possible. Sharing a bed with one of the crew would be one thing, but this man was practically a stranger.

In the room itself, he was polite. Respectful, even. Let you have first crack at the bathroom and everything. He didn’t speak up when you lined up several cushions to separate you, didn’t object to you turning on a sitcom rerun. There were a few words here and there, but nothing that you could even call small talk. Just quiet. 

It was actually nice that he didn’t force you to have a conversation. He was the one who’d suggested sharing, after all. He could have made any kind of condition with his offer, but he hadn’t. He was just...nice in that way. When you were both tired enough to call it a night, you didn’t feel awkward at all. The bed was big, the sheets were warm, and you fell asleep listening to the sounds of the distant highway, to his slow, even breathing. 

-

The second time was at a party. Mostly it was innocent, except to this day you still blush like an idiot whenever it gets brought up. 

You learned during the week prior to that night that there was a sort of New Years tradition on the road. Whoever happened to be traveling that night would gather together in one hotel room, have a few drinks, and watch the New York countdown on TV. Renee was the one to invite you, because she was just that sweet and that including. Parties like this helped you feel more and more like you were part of the group, even when parties weren’t really your thing most of the time. 

When you got to the room, Dean was tipsily singing along with Fergie on TV, yelling into a hairbrush and sounding overall better than most New Years Eve live performances. Seth and Renee provided the air guitar and drums respectively. The sight made you laugh, even as you tried to ignore the anxiety gnawing in the pit of your stomach. These people were a family, they enjoyed spending even their free time together, and you were just a nobody. You weren’t worthy of being here.

Drinks. Drinks would fix this. 

Stepping around a couple of coolers and over Xavier’s gaming setup, you settled on an overstuffed couch in the corner and twisted open a Mike’s. A few more people streamed into the room, drowning out the talking heads on TV with their conversation. You drained half the bottle in one swig, fleetingly wishing you could just disappear into the cushions. Why did talking to people have to be so hard?

Out of nowhere, the couch sank down next to you, and a muscled arm bigger than your neck was reaching over your knees to grab another Mike’s from the open cooler. You looked up, and there was Roman, giving you that same toothy grin that he seemed to reserve especially for you. 

Out of discretion or perhaps shared embarrassment, neither of you had brought up that first night in your interactions since then. Even so, it was safe to say that he wasn’t a stranger anymore. Roman was a coworker you had a friendly, joking relationship with - he was funny, clever, supportive, and always good to be around. At least with him, a conversation would be easy.

Taking a drink, he grimaced at the taste. “Too sweet,” he said. “How do you drink this crap?”

You wrinkled your nose at his unintentional pun. “It’s delicious crap,” you laughed. “I like sweet things, that’s all.”

“Uh huh. Remind me later to introduce you to actual liquor.” He leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees, as he surveyed the rest of the room. “Not much of a people person, huh?” He wasn’t looking at you when he said it, but you heard the smile in his voice.

“Hey, man, I just got here,” you grumbled, a little annoyed at how well he was able to read you. You may as well have tattooed ‘wallflower’ on your forehead.

He sat up and playfully elbowed you in the side. “Relax, I’m kidding. I’m only here because Dean would be on my ass all year if I missed it. Did Renee invite you?”

You nodded. “We were talking about karaoke over lunch one day. I’m guessing she’ll drag me up to sing once Dean wears himself out.”

A raised eyebrow at that. “You sing?”

You shrugged. “Kind of. Took lessons in high school. Tried out for a few musicals.” 

No judgements, no asking you on the spot to sing something like people usually did when presented with such a fact. Just, “That’s cool,” and nothing else. It seemed there was no end to ways he could surprise you. 

The conversation went on like that most of the night. He told you about his first months with FCW, he laughed when you showed him your dog’s Halloween pictures, he may or may not have put his arm around your shoulders. You weren’t sure. Mostly you remember feeling sleepy, even as your drinks sat half-empty in front of you. 

Later you learned that at about two minutes to midnight, Renee found both of you asleep. Rather than draw attention or try to wake you up for the countdown, she had decided to let you rest. 

Eventually, you’d groggily made your way back to your own room once the party was over. You woke up the next day to a text from Renee that contained a single image and a winking emoji. Roman, with his head leaning back against the couch, mouth open as if gently snoring. You, with your head resting on his shoulder, your body relaxed and turned towards his. 

You made her delete the picture later, of course. But not before saving it to your own phone first. 

-

The time after that...well, it could have been under better circumstances.

You’d been driving alone that night, bringing up the rear in the crew caravan. The show that night had gone well, you’d made plans to grab drinks with everyone at the hotel, and you were generally in a good mood. That was, until the SUV in the lane next to you suddenly skidded and slammed into your car.

You were fortunate in that the damage wasn’t major. Panic and adrenaline had been the only things keeping you from careening into the concrete median, and in the end you walked away from the wreck without a scratch. Just a stiff neck and a note from EMTs to check back with them in the morning for signs of whiplash. And even when you insisted to your manager that you would be fine, they made it clear on no uncertain terms that you were to take tomorrow off to rest up. They’d stopped and stayed with you, of course, until all the police reports were filed and the car hauled away, and from there they’d driven you on to the hotel.

You’d been in accidents before - one incident that came to mind was backing up into a fence post one time when you were a teenager - but nothing quite this serious. How you’d managed to come away from all that unharmed was more shocking than anything. Or maybe that was the February air finally getting to you. Either way, you shivered all the way there, too wired on shock and adrenaline to think of how you were going to fall asleep tonight.

After your manager bade you goodnight, you were fumbling with the key to your room, absentmindedly thinking of what on earth you were supposed to do with a day off. Maybe watch Netflix for eight hours? 

That was when a door was yanked open further down the hallway, and you heard and then saw Roman step out of his room. He looked like he was ready for bed - his hair was tied up, and he wore a faded tee and sweatpants. What time was it, anyway? You hadn’t looked at your phone in what must have been a few hours. 

“We heard there was an accident,” he said. He looked upset, almost angry. “What the hell happened?”

Before you could even stammer out a response, he moved swiftly and wrapped you up in his arms. It was almost terrifying how someone so big could move so fast, and his in-ring scowl was nothing if not intimidating. But the way he held you now told a different story. He was strong, yes, and a lot taller than you, but all you felt here in his embrace was warmth and reassurance. Had he been worrying about you?

“I’m fine,” you lied, realizing you’d started to shiver again. You couldn’t blame it entirely on the cold this time. 

He took a deep breath and held you tighter. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured softly. The rumble of his voice sent tingles through your skin. Unsure of what you could say to comfort either of you, you fell silent, slipped your arms around his waist, and buried your face in his chest. 

You felt like you could have stayed there for hours, holding him and being held by him. But as your shaking began to subside, you felt a gentle press of lips against your temple. “Come here,” he whispered, taking your hand and leading you back toward his room. With exhaustion now weighing on you like lead, you didn't think twice. 

You let him lay you down on his bed, let him lie next to you and pull you close. No pillows to separate you this time. Just a warm bed, warm sheets, and Roman holding you until you fell asleep. Which didn’t take long, of course. But this feeling...his warmth, his breathing, his skin, his face tucked in against your neck, knowing that he cared about you and that he was glad you were safe and that he wanted to make sure you got to sleep okay…

You never wanted to lose this feeling. You never wanted to let him go. 

-

In Sacramento, you realized you might be in love with Roman Reigns. 

Raw had just gone off the air, and the arena was starting to empty. While your fellow crew members were preparing to dismantle the ring and box up the production equipment, you sprinted through the back hallways. Part of you wondered if you would lose your job over this, but it was hard to think critically about that with your heart pounding in your chest. 

If you didn’t tell him now, you just knew you’d never have the courage to try again. 

The winding halls were mostly empty - those who were still there gave you puzzled stares as you ran by - but you knew medical would be busy. It was just a bump, you tried to remind yourself. They did this every night and they knew how to do it safely. Except accidents happened, and Roman’s suicide dive had felt like a stab in the heart to see on the monitors. 

If he was hurt, really hurt..._fuck_. You didn’t know what you would do. 

A few people were exiting medical when you got there - Braun, Seth, and a few of the medical staff you recognized - but they must have been leaving to wrap up and head home, since they didn’t look twice at you when you pushed inside. 

Your heart did another couple of backflips. Roman sat on the edge of a table in the otherwise empty room, holding an ice pack against his left wrist. He was sweaty with exertion, obviously from the match, and his hair formed a cascade of wet curls that half-obscured his face, but otherwise he looked completely fine. You exhaled slowly. Thank God. 

He looked up. You realized then that you’d said that out loud. He smiled and waved weakly with his free hand. “Just banged it on the ramp. Don’t worry about it.”

“Who said I was worried?” you replied, the slight quaver to your voice betraying your relief. Even as you crossed the room to hug him, you felt like crying. The mere thought of him in pain twisted your stomach up in tight knots. 

He chuckled, touseling your hair affectionately. His fingers seemed to linger over the back of your neck. “I’m fine. Promise. Nothing I can’t come back from.” He paused and gave you a puzzled look. “Why’d you come back here anyway? They’ll need you down at ringside.”

You swallowed hard. You’d rehearsed the words in your head a number of times, and it was hardly the first time you’d asked somebody out. Your hands fidgeted at your sides. God, his eyes were so beautiful. 

His brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Then it all came out at once. “Nothing. I just, uh. Shit. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and-and I really like what we have. You’re a good friend, you’re really great to be around, my day gets better just by seeing you. And if friends is all we can be, I’m happy with that. But if we could be, uh, be more. I don’t know. I was just thinking maybe if you want we could get coffee sometime, or-or-“

His grip on the back of your neck tightened suddenly, and then his lips were on yours. It was a chaste kiss, lasting only a moment or so, but immediately after it ended you wanted more. 

He rested his forehead against yours and smiled, exhaling slowly. “Coffee sounds nice. But dinner would be better.”

Dinner. That was a good idea. You tried telling him that, but when you opened your mouth nothing came out. At a loss for what else to do, you kissed him again. 

This one lasted longer. His fingers tangled loosely in your hair, and you anchored your hands on his thighs as the brush of his tongue on yours sent delicious tingles down your spine. 

“You’re right, I should…” you began, but then trailed off at the frankly arousing feeling of his mouth on your throat. 

You felt him smile, felt the soft curve of his lips on your skin. God, he wasn’t even being fair. You couldn’t wait to get him back later. “Go on, I’ll see you at the hotel. We’ll use your bed this time.”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Promise?”

Roman laughed. You decided it was your new favorite sound. “Hell yeah. We’ll get room service or something. Find a few excuses not to sleep.”

The idea of doing things in a bed with Roman Reigns that didn’t have to involve sleeping made it even harder to pull yourself away. But somehow you were satisfied with one more kiss, and in turning to make your way back out to ringside you had no idea why you’d been so worried in the first place. Teasing and flirting with Roman felt like breathing, like it was the easiest and most natural thing in the world. 

Being with him...maybe it could work out just fine. 

Later that night he surprised you not with room service, but with the most deliciously greasy and unhealthy items from your favorite drive-thru place. You must have mentioned it offhandedly to him once a while ago, because you had no idea how else he would have known. He nearly dropped the huge bag of food when you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him. 

The two of you spent the rest of the night piled up on your bed, eating and talking about nothing at all between soft, lingering kisses. He was clearly being gentle with you, uncertain how far and how fast you want to go. 

You appreciated his thoughtfulness, but when you whispered in his ear exactly what you wanted to do with him, you relished the way he groaned from deep in his chest. 

You grinned as he laid you flat on the bed. Sleeping next to him was great, but you had a feeling sleeping with him would be so much better.


End file.
